Date: Fri, 17 Jul 2009 18:58:08 -0400
From: Pee Jay
Subject: Plaquemines Parish 8
"Plaquemines Parish" Part 8
By: Pee Jay
peejay@mi.rr.com
This chapter touches lightly on the practice of Voodoo in New
Orleans. Voodoo is regarded as an accepted religion these days. While I'm
not a believer or practitioner, it's certainly not unheard of. In fact,
it's flourishing; just ask Shirley MacLaine, lol. Seriously, though, it has
become a significant draw for tourists, curiosity seekers and practitioners
alike. Following is a brief explanation of some common terms, beliefs, and
practices for Santeria, aka Voodou or Voodoo, used in the story.
Bondye or Bon Dieu - the supreme being, God. Voodoo is monotheistic. In
Creole Bondye means good God; in French Bon Dieu means good God.
Loa or Lwa - are spirits that may be dead relatives or recognized spirits
in Voodoo. They mount (think possess) individuals during ceremonies. They
are similar to saints in that they intercede on behalf of the believer to
Bondye. Mortals are not able to interact directly with him. The saints that
the Catholic French recognized influenced the concept. This lent an air of
acceptability to the French who occupied Haiti for a significant part of
her history.
Dumballah - The father figure. He is the good snake, a Lwa. The source of
peace and tranquility. The egg is offered to him when he comes to mount a
person. He is much loved and sought after. His wife Aida-wedo attends him.
St. John's Eve - For Voodooists, St. John's Eve (June 23) is the most
important night of the year. This is also known as Bastille Day by the
French and outside of France and Haiti, is only recognized in Quebec and
Ireland. Eyewitness accounts of St. John's Eve ceremonies on the lakefront
include lurid tales of half-naked cultists whirling in fantastic dances
around a huge bonfire and a boiling cauldron into which they toss live
chickens, snails, frogs, black cats and the ever-present snakes for the
purpose of ingesting the concoction. Congo drums beat with the leg bones of
buzzards while the crowd chants "Li grand Zombi" as the reigning Voodoo
Mambo (a female) or Houngan Asogwe (a male) dances with a snake. It was
said that the Voodoos drank the blood of black cats, ripped live chickens
apart and ate them and that sometimes in the throes of a frenzied dance
they clawed, bit and drew blood from one another. The majority of
Voodooists in the early years were Creole (Haitians with mixed
blood). There are many stories of whites -- particularly young women -- who
participated in them.
Marie Leveau - The name of Marie Laveau is legendary in New Orleans. She
was a tall, handsome, mean-eyed woman who, it's said, was the illegitimate
daughter of a wealthy white planter and a mulatto. The reddish cast of her
skin indicated Indian blood as well. In 1819, at the time of her marriage
in St. Louis Cathedral to Jacques Paris, a native of Santo Domingo
(St. Dominique), she was a devout French Catholic. Paris mysteriously
vanished shortly after the marriage, and she began calling herself the
Widow Paris. She worked as a hairdresser, listening to gossip and secrets
while she arranged the tresses of aristocratic white women. A few years
after Paris vanished; she became the mistress of a quadroon named Louis
Christophe Duminy de Glapion, with whom she had fifteen children. They
lived in a cottage on St. Ann Street between North Rampart and Burgundy
Streets in the French Quarter. The disappearance of her husband and her
migration to Voodoo may or may not have been connected. In any case, by
1830 Marie was a force to be reckoned with. It's said, she eliminated other
priestesses or mambos via the use of powerful gris-gris, literally
"Hoodooing" them to death. Hoodoo is the practice of invoking spirits
through the use of dark magic. A Voodoo priestess can only become a queen
after her death.
In Voodoo it is believed the soul is comprised of two parts, the
ti-bon-ange (translated from French means 'little good angel') and the
gros-bon-ange (from French means 'great good angel'). It is believed that
after death the ti-bon-ange must be appeased, via a sacrifice, in order to
be given a peaceful rest. Only if the ti-bon-ange is given a peaceful rest
will the gros-bon-ange be permitted to return to the cosmos. The importance
being that the gros-bon-ange will intercede with Bondye on behalf of the
relative or a believer but is most beneficial to a relative.
Creole - Louisianans who identify themselves as "Creole" are most commonly
from historically Francophone communities with some ancestors who came to
Louisiana either directly from France or via the French colonies in the
Caribbean-primarily St. Dominique (present day Haiti). Those descended from
the Acadians of French Canada usually identify themselves as Cajuns, rather
than Creoles. The term is, at times, used to mean simply "pertaining to New
Orleans", not an accurate use of the word. Louisiana's Creole People
(Creoles of Color) are of mixed (mainly French, Spanish, African-American,
and Native American) heritage.
Devil Baby -There's a tale noir of the Devil Baby's birth, and his rantings
in New Orleans. The tale is much to lengthy to describe here. Suffice it
for now to say, many believe he exists and tales of his haunting around
St. Louis Cathedral in the Quarter abound. Here is an interesting link to a
very descriptive summation:
http://thedemoniacal.blogspot.com/2009/06/devil-baby-of-new-orleans.html
These definitions and explanations are, for the most part, accurate. As
with any religion, the theological debates never end. Some of the true
beliefs and practices of Voodoo are herein bastardized for the sake of the
story. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. - Pee Jay
* * *
The announcement to remodel the restaurant was made a week ago meaning
mandatory time off for me. I really didn't want to be idle; I wanted the
money. Things like carpeting, wall coverings, paint and light fixtures were
slated to be changed as well as the furniture. The project was scheduled to
proceed in two phases. The dining room to the right of the entrance was
first to undergo the upgrade as the dining room to the left continued doing
business. Then there would be a switch while the other dining room got the
same treatment.
I was working in the right-side dining room with Rob so I had two weeks off
while the contractor completed the first phase. Friday was my last day for
two weeks. Saturday morning I awoke at my usual time and went downstairs to
make coffee. As was typical for weekend mornings, Mike and Steve were in
the spa. I started the coffee then looked out the window to make sure they
weren't intertwined before I joined them.
"What are you guys doing today? Anything special?" I asked as I placed a
lawn chair and sat down.
"We're going to be gone later this afternoon," Steve said. "Some friends
are having a barbeque and pool party."
"Oh, cool. Can I go?" I really didn't want to but I thought I would watch
Steve squirm.
He was quiet for a moment before he spoke, "And why, pray tell, would you
want to go?"
I smiled, "I really don't. I just wanted to see what you'd say."
Mike decided to speak up, "What are you up to?"
"Is it okay if I go to the Quarter to pick up the Mardi Gras poster? The
store left a message saying it's ready."
Mike hesitated then said, "Is that the only reason you want to go there?"
"Yeah, Mike, I swear," and that really was the truth. "Or maybe you guys
can pick it up on your way if you don't mind."
Steve rang in, "Mike, I say let him pick it up. That's harmless enough. I
don't want to go there; it's a pain in the neck getting around with a
car. Besides, if we ride with Jerry and Mark; it would be rude to ask them
to go out of their way."
"Okay" Mike acquiesced. "Get the poster then get your butt out of there. No
diversions or funny business, understood?"
"Yeah, like what would I do there anyway? Bill gave us a good tour so
there's really nothing further to see or do."
"I didn't ask for your thoughts. I said to get the poster and get out of
there. Is that clear?"
"Yeah, it's clear Mike," I rose to go in the house for a refill. As I
turned to go, I mumbled something about Warden Harris needing to get laid.
"What was that, little man?" Mike asked forcefully.
I turned around afraid that he overheard me. "Nothing Mike, I was talking
to myself."
I looked at Steve who was grinning big time. Apparently, he heard my
comment. I couldn't suppress a smile so I turned around to hide it. As I
walked toward the house, I overheard Mike say something about a little
shit, making me chuckle.
I placed my coffee on the countertop in the bathroom. Before I hopped in
the shower, I called Dave to make sure he was coming over. With my routine
out of the way, I made the beds and straightened up. I had the idea to wait
for Dave with Mike and Steve.
I brought them a coffee placing them on the edge of the spa. I sat down
again in the lawn chair.
"If Mark and Jerry need help in the next couple weeks, I'm available." Then
another thought popped into mind. "So are Dave and Greg."
"We'll let them know," Steve said. "What can you do?"
"Anything, I can wash dishes or wait tables if one of them wants time
off. I can clean too. It doesn't matter to me. I can't cook though."
Dave came around the side of the house greeting everyone with a cheerful,
"Good morning" as he approached. Then he bent over and put his lips over
mine in a sloppy kiss making me smile into his mouth.
He said Greg had to cut the lawn before he could leave so we decided to
hang out until he came over. Dave wanted to sit in the spa for a while so
we went to my room to get bathing suits. Dave closed the door as he
followed me into the bedroom.
"We're supposed to keep the door open. I'm gonna get in trouble if Steve or
Mike comes up here."
I went to the door to open it. As I placed my hand on the doorknob, Dave
leaned against it with the palm of his hand, standing behind me.
"Don't you want to mess around?"
"Of course, dude! We can leave it open halfway and still hear someone
coming. The first two steps creak loud enough to let you know."
So I opened the door then pulled my shirt off on the way to the dresser. I
opened the top-drawer when, seconds later, Dave poked his boner between my
thighs, then started pumping.
"Dave", I pleaded. "You didn't give me a chance to get in the mood."
"Get with it, dude," he said as he bent over pulling my shorts and
underwear down at the same time.
He started pushing me toward the bed and I nearly tripped stepping out of
my shorts. He forced me face down on the mattress then climbed on top. I
would have been hard as steel given the chance.
He rubbed his hard-on up and down the crack of my ass panting in my ear. If
it weren't for the fact that I cared for him deeply, I probably would have
punched him. As it was, I lay there letting him fulfill his fantasy,
because that's what it was. No way was he going to screw me if this is what
he had in mind.
"Um, are you done yet?" I said sarcastically on the verge of elbowing him
in the face.
I felt his dick swell in my crack as he came to a halt releasing his load
on the small of my back with a moan that, I'm sure, was heard outside. He
was panting as if he had just finished a marathon, lowering himself on me.
"Get off me, god damn it," I said twisting onto my side. He slid off as I
rolled to the edge of the bed swinging my feet over to the floor. I was
disgusted and a little hurt. "What the hell's wrong with you?"
He scooted next to me looking like I was speaking a foreign language. He
was handsome as hell but I wasn't going to let him know that, at least not
right now. I raised my eyebrows as if to say, 'well'.
His demeanor began to sag as the levity of his deeds came into focus. He
put his arm around me whispering in my ear, "I'm sorry but you're so sexy I
can't help myself." Then he kissed my neck.
'Well, shit!' was all I could think. How could I not forgive him after
that? The handsome devil surely knew how to work me and I had to be honest;
I guess I liked it in spite of my initial reaction. I pushed him gently
back on the bed and lay half on and off him,
"I guess it took me by surprise. I didn't have time to get into it." Then I
kissed his head snuggling close.
We held each other for a few moments then Dave said, "C'mon let's hit the
spa for a while before Greg gets here."
I took two suits from the dresser and tossed one his way.
"Okay," I said. "I'll meet you out there. I have to take a leak first,"
... 'and clean myself up,' I thought silently.
As I approached them, Dave was sitting on the edge dangling his legs in the
water as he talked with Mike and Steve. They were sitting on the edge too,
apparently taking a break so I did the same. As I listened to them talk, I
eyed Dave's crotch, noticing the path of dark hair leading south from his
navel. I wanted to feel it in the worst way. Then I imagined stroking his
chest and the soft fine hair on his pecs. I was starting to harden, so I
lowered myself into the spa so no one could see.
Greg arrived a half-hour later. After hello's, I took him up to Mike and
Steve's room. Steve said he could borrow one of his bathing suits since
they were about the same size. I told him to change in my room then left
for the spa pulling the door closed. Mike and Steve went in the house to
clean up for the party leaving the three of us alone.
"Hey, you guys," I said. "I have to pick up that poster I bought in the
Quarter. Mike and Steve said I could get it myself if that's all I did. Ya
wanna go?"
"I'm not supposed to go there and neither is Dave," Greg said slowly. "But
if we pick it up and leave right away; I don't see the harm. Whaddya say,
Dave?"
His demeanor changed noticeably.
"I guess it'd be okay. I mean who's gonna know? If we get out of there
quick, it shouldn't be a problem. We gonna ride bikes?"
"No," I said before Greg could respond. "The poster is too big to carry on
a bike. We can take the streetcar."
We all agreed to spend some time in the spa then have lunch before we
left. A while later, Dave slid his hand under the waistband of my suit. As
much as I welcomed it, I wasn't comfortable messing around in front of Greg
so I said,
"Let's make a sandwich and get going."
They agreed so I waited for them to go first in an effort to hide my
erection. They walked toward the house while I headed for the pump house to
turn the spa off. I rearranged myself and joined them inside.
"If you guys want to wash the chlorine off, feel free to use my
bathroom. Use the towel that's in there. Take the sponge under the sink and
wipe the tiles off before you get out of the shower."
"Shit, that's worse than home," Greg objected.
"Yeah, well you'd understand if you had to do the cleaning. Those are the
conditions, take 'em or leave 'em," I said, then realized how much I
sounded like Mike.
"Better listen to the cleaning lady," Dave said smiling.
I stuck my tongue out at him, then held my three middle fingers up telling
him to read between the lines.
Greg laughed pointing at Dave, "Better listen if ya want some later on," he
teased.
I rather liked that. Greg was becoming more comfortable with the gay thing,
seemingly.
We rode the St. Charles line to the end, crossing Canal Street on foot into
the Quarter. The streets were clogged with tourists as jazz music echoed
off the buildings. The smell of hot dogs, cotton candy and fast food hung
in the hot humid air making me wonder why they weren't at the beach. People
walked about with plastic cups of beer and assorted mixed drinks. The mood
was light and festive.
As we made our way up Bourbon Street, Greg spotted a store he wanted to
check out so we followed him inside. The door bumped against a bell that
clanged reminding me of a cowbell. Not that I knew what one sounded like
but that's what the clanging sound brought to mind.
As soon as we stepped inside, the air conditioning welcomed us. It was
evident we were in a sex shop. There were scores of phallic devices
displayed in cases in a myriad of sizes. I looked at some of the posters on
the wall advertising videos. Some had pictures of guys screwing while
others depicted guys in chains, tied up receiving various forms of
discipline. It was bizarre but that's exactly what they portrayed.
Racks of leather clothing were scattered randomly about the front of the
store while the rear held shelves of videos and published material. Greg
was holding up a pair of leather pants with the crotch missing staring
intently at them.
I heard a door slam at the rear of the store. When I looked, there were two
guys coming out of what appeared to be a closet. That was strange but not
hard to figure out.
I was beginning to feel uneasy when Dave walked over to me holding a
plastic bottle. It looked like a bottle of shampoo.
He said, "Buy this, Val".
"What is it?"
I took the bottle to have a look. It was a bottle of lube according to the
label. I looked at Dave who was wearing a grin large enough to bridge the
Mississippi. I rolled my eyes and said,
"I can't buy this. What if Mike and Steve find it?"
"It's not like they don't know what it's used for," he said sarcastically.
I examined the bottle again then looked up. "I'm too embarrassed. I'll give
you the money and you buy it, okay?"
The clerk came out from behind the counter walking in our direction. He was
wearing a snuggly fitting muscle shirt with tight leather pants. He had a
goatee with a baldhead and metal studs piercing his ears. His body
displayed tattoos all over the place. He was older, much older than Mike
and Steve.
He approached us saying, "What are you gentlemen doing here?"
We looked up at him. I didn't know what to say standing there
dumbfounded. Eventually Dave said,
"What do you mean?"
The clerk took the bottle away from me saying,
"You boys are too young to be in here. I hope to see you in a few years now
get out of here before I lose my business license. Beat it."
Dave and I turned to go then realized Greg had disappeared.
"Where's Greg?" I asked aloud. "He was just here."
"I'll get him," Dave said. "He walked toward the shelving in the back."
I headed for the front door and waited inside. The air conditioning felt
good versus the heat and humidity outside.
Greg followed Dave out of the magazine section shifting my imagination into
gear.
As we made our way to the far end of the Vieux Carr‚, Greg was quiet. I
wondered silently what he was thinking. He was obviously enamored with the
contents of the store. Whatever it was, it was his issue until he elected
to make it known.
We were a couple blocks off Esplanade when Dave spotted the gallery.
"There's the store," he said, pointing.
We crossed the street and went inside. I produced my receipt for the clerk
and browsed as we waited. A short time later and we were on our way. Out on
the street, Dave noticed a store across the way.
"Let's go in that place over there," he said pointing to a small shop.
A sign hung above the door suspended from the balcony over the sidewalk. It
read "Mother Wattles' Voodoo Shop". I must admit the place had an allure, a
certain intrigue so we all agreed and crossed the street.
Greg said, "Wow, I can't believe there's actually a store for that," as he
quickened his pace. His interest was noticeably piqued.
The door was propped open with an old fireplace anvil so we proceeded
inside. There was an eerie quality about the place. It was dark and dimly
lit with candles; the only natural light spilled in through the open
doorway. I guessed the pungent smell was a result of the herbs hanging
upside down from the exposed ceiling of hand-hewn beams and boards. There
were open crocks, of God only knows what, scattered around the wood floor
with scoops partially buried in them. A stack of shelves, arrayed evenly
from floor to ceiling segmented an exposed brick wall holding various and
sundry effigies. Some were made of carved wood while a few were doll-like
with painted faces, clad in swaddling garments. Some were saintly, while
others suggested imps, sprites, animals and even a devil-like doll labeled
"Devil Baby". It was creepy sending a chill down my spine.
I caught Dave's eye as he moved about taking in the bewitching, beguiling
nature of the room. He pointed to the wooden shelves with an oversize glass
jar of chicken's feet in clear liquid. Next to it was another jar of what
appeared to be ashes labeled "ju-ju dust". There was another one with a
dead snake suspended in clear liquid. The place was blood curdling and
seductive in a cryptic sort of way.
Greg inspected the dead snake with trepidation when a Creole woman behind
the counter said,
"Dat be DUMBALLAH, dah snake speerit," she crowed.
Greg looked at her in disbelief or fear; I'm not sure which. The look on
his face was definitely one of consternation.
The mulatto woman, her skin a soft brown, stood behind the counter along
the sidewall. Her hair was dark and surly, while her body was full and
round. She was braless. Her deflated breasts sagged, resting on her
protruding belly. She wore a brilliantly colored summer dress with thin
shoulder straps exposing her chubby arms, neck and shoulders.
I was smitten with her presence. I walked toward the counter wondering who
and what she was. I paused in front of her saying,
"Hello, my name is Val," offering her my hand.
She wasn't interested in taking it. She looked at me straight away and
said,
"Mutha Wattles know who you bee. You come home to N'Awlins. Deese a good
ting."
She spoke with a Creole French accent. She looked skyward stretching her
arms up as if beseeching a deity; "I know deese boi, Bon Dieu" she
declaimed loudly then turned her gaze on me.
It was spooky to the max. Or maybe she was a nut case; who knew? Either
way, she gave me the willies with her screwy invocation of Bon Dieu or
whoever the sam hell she was talking to.
"Who are you?" I asked then thought silently, 'and what are you'?
"I be Mutha Wattles, Mambo Princess of N'Awlins," she said with a lilt in
her voice. "Deese be you friends?"
I looked at Dave and Greg across the room then back at Mother Wattles;
"Yeah, these are my friends", I confirmed nervously.
There was a portrait of a woman on the wall behind the counter so I asked
her,
"Who's that in the picture?" I pointed to the portrait of a Creole woman
with a turban wrapped around her head.
She didn't turn around to look saying, "Marie Leveau, most famous and
powerful Voodoo Queen of all. She dade but her magique leeve on."
Things were getting a little too surreal so I decided to browse the
store. As I strolled through the shop, I noticed an unusual looking
necklace on display and picked it up. It had a double loop of brown leather
cord intertwined and held together with three sets of beads spaced
evenly. There was a trinket suspended from the leather bands depicting a
squatting monkey next to a chicken that shone with the rich luster of
gold. I was overcome with curiosity so I turned it over inspecting it on
all sides.
Mother Wattles was standing behind me and said, "You like? Dat be dah most
powerful charm in Voodoo. It breeng wearer good luck. Dah Sacred Monkey and
Cock give tree wish in tree years if you wear."
I flinched at the sound of her voice behind me. I wasn't expecting it. I
was already spooked by her monologue with the ceiling. I turned around to
see Mother Wattles standing there smiling.
"How much does it cost?" I asked.
"Dah gold one like dat bring tree wish right away. No have to wate tree
year."
I thought she was building me up for the price but she was serious. 'A
serious con artist,' I chuckled to myself as I waited for the price.
Dave heard the conversation and approached saying, "It's cool. Are you
going to buy it?"
"I don't know. Mother Wattles just gave me the sales pitch. Now I'm waiting
for the bad news."
She had a mischievous look on her face, "I make good price for you. You
come to St. John's Eve next week and you can have for tirty dollah."
I didn't know what the hell St. John's Eve was. It did, however, have a
saint's name so it couldn't be all that bad.
I agreed saying, "Sold," then handed the necklace to her.
She made a 'follow me' motion with her arm heading for the counter. Dave
had an excited look on his face so I asked him,
"You want one too?"
"Naw," he said but I could tell he really did.
At the counter, I asked Mother Wattles, "Do you have another one?"
She looked at Dave then back at me with a smile. I thought she probably
figured things out for herself which didn't bother me. If she had the nerve
to say something, she could kiss the sale goodbye.
She disappeared into the backroom through a doorway shrouded with curtains
under the portrait of Marie Leveau. When she re-appeared, she was holding a
replica of the charm I had except the leather was dyed black instead of
brown.
"Deese one luke good on 'im," she stated decisively holding it alongside
Dave's face.
I had to agree smiling. It went with his hair color much better than
brown. I had to repress a strong urge to kiss my handsome boyfriend.
I handed her the money from my wallet and noticed a picture I carried of my
deceased father while she made change. It was odd to think of him now of
all times and places. It seemed like years since he passed away and I
hadn't missed him. It made me feel guilty.
As I studied my father's picture, she put Dave's necklace over his head
then did the same to me.
"Ouch," I said as she pulled my hair trying to get the necklace over my
head.
"Who dat be?" Mother Wattles asked looking at my dad's picture.
I looked at her then down at the picture again, "That's my father. He died
last year."
"Dade relatif ease mose importan. When he die?"
I had to think for a minute before responding, "He die," I paused. Now she
had me talking like her, for Christ sake. "I mean, he died June thirtieth
last year just before his thirty-seventh birthday."
"Den you muss do sacred ritual one year and one day after he die. He be
important lwa for you. You make sacrifice to ti-bon-ange so gros-bon-ange
enter speerit worl and cosmo for you. If you not free his soul, you be
sorry. You muss free dah speerit!" she said on an uphill note as if
preaching from a pulpit.
"What is tee-bone-ang?" I asked her. I repeated her words phonetically not
knowing what the heck she was talking about.
"Ti-bon-ange and gros-bon-ange be dah two half of da soul. You must appease
ti-bon-ange with sacrifice one year and one day afta death so gros-bon-ange
be free to enter cosmos. Dis be very impotan. You must put ti-bon-ange to
rest. You fadda be impotan lwa for you."
Dave was grinning like hell while Greg was standing there mesmerized by her
every word. Between the two of them, I couldn't resist a grin. Yet, this
old Creole Mambo was putting the fear of God or Bondye or Bon Dieu (or
whatever the hell her idol's name was) in me.
I thought I would change the subject. "So, what's so special about
St. John's Eve?" I redirected my eyes to her.
She waved her arm in an all-inclusive fashion, "Dat most impotan day of
all! Dah nite of June," she paused briefly. "How to say, aaah, tenty no,
aaah twentee-tird. Yah, dah nite of June twentee-tird. Das eet. St. John's
Eve come before dah longeest day, dah Solstice."
Greg was so rapt; he appeared to be on the verge of converting unable to
contain himself,
"Where is the service held, in St. Louis Cathedral?" he asked with
anticipation.
"Mais non, deer bouy. Many year ago, it held in St. John's Bayou by Queen
Marie Leveau. Deese days it held in St. Tammany Pareesh, east of Mandeville
in Fountainebleau Park."
"Oh," was all Greg said, studying Mother Wattles' face.
Dave shifted his weight stepping backward and said, "We should be going."
We all agreed and I was glad he said it. I, for one, had enough of this
weird shit for a while. We said goodbye as we started for the door.
"Do not forget St. John's Eve. You make Muddah Wattles promise."
I turned around to see her looking at me. Shit, she wasn't kidding. What
did I get myself into and how can I get out of it? Damn.
"He'll be there," Greg responded on my behalf.
As we walked away from the shop, I said to Greg, "Why did you say that? I
don't know if I can go. I don't know if I even want to!"
"Dude, ya gotta go. You promised her. She might put a hex on you if you
don't."He couldn't resist a laugh then he became somber. "You don't mess
around with those folks. They take their craft seriously."
"You mean witchcraft!" I said light heartedly with a chuckle.
"I mean it, Val. I don't know if you noticed those dolls on the shelf in
the store. Did you?"
"Yeah," I admitted tentatively as I recalled the Devil Baby doll.
He turned around, walking backwards. "I'm telling you, dude. One of those
dolls could be you!" He was gesticulating with his arms as he spoke. "All
she needs is a piece of your clothing or hair or something personal of
yours to put a hex on you. Then you're royally fucked man," he emphasized
fucked. "You may as well kill yourself 'cause your life will suck the big
one from then on. You might even go to hell when you die!"
Now he was scaring me. It wasn't funny anymore. She pulled my hair in the
store too! For all I knew, she had some.
"Fuck me!" I said, looking at the pavement and rubbing my head. "She pulled
my hair in the store, too. I wouldn't be surprised if that fat ass old
broad pulled some out."
"Okay," Dave said with a lilt. "Whatever you want." Then he grinned big
time.
I nudged him into a post supporting a balcony as we walked, causing him to
fall behind us. He scurried to catch up with us saying, "What are you gonna
do, Val?"
"He's going to the St. John's Eve ceremony and we're going with him," Greg
said, seizing the moment.
We walked quietly through the Quarter in the direction of the streetcar
line. As we walked, I couldn't help but contemplate if the old mambo, or
whatever the hell she was, had some of my hair. Sure, it was innocent
enough the way she did it. But was it legal to take something from someone
with ill-intent? I definitely couldn't ask Mike. If I told him I was in
that store he would come unglued. It was anyone's guess the way he might
react. And what reason could I give for attending the ceremony? Geez, this
was getting complicated.
Then there was the possibility of a hex. What kind of hex would it be?
Could she actually do something like that? Make me into a chicken or a
cripple or who knows what, maybe one of those fucking dolls like Greg
said. God, why did Dave have to go in that damn store in the first place? I
tried to discharge the thought.
"Do you guys wanna come over for a swim?" Greg asked.
Dave and I quickly accepted the invitation. I didn't know Greg had a
swimming pool and the revelation didn't really matter. The temperature had
to be pushing one hundred Fahrenheit, and it was humid as hell. It sounded
like a great idea.
I met them at Greg's house after dropping off the poster, picking up a
bathing suit, and leaving a note for Steve and Mike. It was a little
awkward approaching Greg's house for the first time since I had only been
as close as the driveway. His mother answered the door so I introduced
myself. Then she introduced herself as Mrs. LaBelle. We exchanged
pleasantries then she invited me in. She escorted me through the house
being nicely appointed, to the back door, telling me there was a cabana in
the backyard where I could change.
Dave splashed me as I walked by so I stuck my tongue out at him, the shit.
"I'll get even. Give me a minute and you're dead meat. Road-kill is gonna
look great compared to you," I yelled at him.
"Whoa ... I?m scared now," he said mockingly in what sounded like a kid's
voice laughing.
After changing, I cracked the door to see which end of the pool he was
at. He was facing away from me near the far end so I let the door close
behind me, and quietly walked to the edge of the pool. I dove in his
direction. Underneath him, I pulled his bathing suit down to his ankles and
squeezed his balls, not too hard but hard enough, I hoped, to cause a
little pain, then I had to surface for air.
I no sooner inhaled deeply than he put his hands on my shoulders forcing me
under. I squirmed as much as I could, finally breaking his hold. I gasped
for air as I broke the surface panting like crazy and laughing at the same
time.
Greg was watching with a grin. "Is that how fags play in the water?" he
asked, teasing.
"Let's get him," Dave said with a glint in his eye as he shoved off from
the side of the pool.
I followed him. Dave went for his upper body, wrapping his arms around his
torso forcing him under with his weight. I pulled him by the legs. He
turned and twisted, trying to free himself, but it wasn't working. As big
and strong as he was, two against one was too much for him. Eventually, we
let him go so we all could surface for air.
We rested on the pool's edge, all three of us gasping, coughing, and
laughing.
A minute later and I shoved off the edge with my feet, floating on my back,
kicking gently to stay afloat. The water was clear and refreshing on such a
hot day.
At the opposite end of the pool, I hauled myself out and retrieved my
sunglasses from the cabana. I reclined on a chaise lounge with my hands
behind my head. I drew my feet up under my knees and closed my eyes.
Dave and Greg horsed around in the pool for a while. There was no diving
board so they dove from the edge doing cannonballs and jack-knives, trying
to splash me. It didn't work, and that made me smirk prompting them to try
harder.
Eventually they tired and claimed a chaise on either side of me. I watched
Dave's muscles take shape and slacken as he lowered himself, reclining on
his back. I wanted to take his bathing suit off and play with his
equipment. I was safe in staring with my sunglasses on. I imagined his
penis hard and upright between his legs with the dark hair at the base. I
wondered what it would feel like in my rear end. It was an erotic image,
causing me to bone up. I rolled over on my stomach and lowered the backrest
so could lie flat. I noticed Greg's crotch as I did.
He was half-hard too, making me wonder what the source of his stimulation
was. As I lay face down, I tried to picture Dave on top of me with his
hardness buried inside. I guessed it probably felt good since so many gay
guys do it. But how exactly does it feel? The few times I saw videos on the
net, some of them appeared to be in pain yet they kept it up. Maybe it was
because of the money. Maybe if they didn't go through with it they wouldn't
get paid. Then there were the ones that seemed to like it and want more. I
decided I would have to find out for myself. That's the only way I would
know for sure.
* * *
That night I had a nightmare about the St. John's Eve ceremony and woke
Mike and Steve before I snapped out of it. I had been shouting at the top
of my lungs and kicking when I slowly opened my eyes. It was a short time
before I realized where I was and what was happening.
In the nightmare, I was at the St. John's Eve ceremony. I saw a bonfire
with people dancing around. They drank from a steaming cauldron of liquid
that Mother Wattles prepared with some goods she sold in her store. A white
woman was dancing aimlessly while a black woman was making strange
gyrations. The top of her dress was hanging from her waist exposing her
milk-chocolate breasts as the sweat beaded-up and ran down her body. Mother
Wattles was chanting at an altar. I saw myself in the center of the action
naked and tied to a tree awaiting my initiation. That's what caused me to
wake up.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked as I blinked a few times trying to clear my
head.
They were sitting on opposite sides of the bed both of them looking
concerned. After I had my wits about me I said,
"Yeah, it was a bad dream."
"You're soaking wet," Mike said, wiping my forehead with the sheet. "Are
you gonna be able to go back to sleep?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine. You guys can go back to bed. Sorry to wake you," I
apologized, hoping that would be enough of an explanation.
Mike sat there staring at me. I don't know what he was searching for
because the action was over. He finally satisfied himself and returned with
Steve to their room. I decided to get up and take a whiz before I tried to
go back to sleep.
The next morning, I was the last to rise. As I made my way to the kitchen,
I silently cursed Mother Wattles for messing with my head. In spite of her,
I managed to get a good night's sleep and felt rested. I didn't want to
think about that crap anymore. Aside from bordering on the occult or maybe
the ridiculous, it was a little scary too.
I poured a coffee and sat at the table with Steve, who was reading the
morning paper.
"Mornin', sport," he said with a smile. "You doin' okay?"
"Mornin', Steve. I'm good; how 'bout you?"
"Same ole, same ole," he said, looking back at the paper.
I could hear Mike on the stairs as he descended. A few seconds later, he
rounded the corner into the kitchen. He was dressed and looking darn
good. I guessed he was going to court today. He looked handsome and sexy in
his suit and tie with his dark hair neatly groomed. It looked like he put
gel in it this morning, making me smile.
"Mornin', sport," he said on his way for a refill.
"Mornin', Mike."
He stopped dead in his tracks about a step past me then backed up. He took
the Sacred Monkey and Cock charm between his fingers. It was easy enough to
spot; I wasn't wearing a shirt.
"Where did you get this?" he wanted to know.
I realized a while ago that honesty was the best policy where Mike was
concerned so I said,
"I bought it yesterday." And that wasn't a lie.
"I didn't ask when you bought it; I asked where you bought it."
'Aw, shit,' I thought silently; 'here it comes.' I exhaled looking at
Steve, who was grinning. He sure likes to see me in the hot seat.
"I bought it at a store across the street from the frame shop?; still no
lies there.
"Are you lying?"
"No, I'm truthin," I said with a smile, proud of my response. I thought it
was a good example of thinking fast on one's feet and I still hadn't lied.
He released the charm in favor of a coffee refill. I breathed a sigh of
relief, happy to be off the hook. Steve shot me a quick glance then went
back to the paper with a smirk.
"What?" I said looking at Steve.
He looked up setting the paper aside, "I'm sensing there's a story there,"
he said matter-of-factly.
I hopped to my feet and punched him lightly in the arm, saying, "Wrong,
little man." Then I got out of there before I had to divulge anything
further.
As I made the beds, the two of them hollered goodbye from the bottom of the
stairs. I wished them both a good day before they left. I gathered the
laundry from their closet and mine and started the washing machine. I cut
the grass and edged the sidewalks as per Master Mike.
Through the course of my chores, I couldn't get that dang dream out of my
head. The images flashed like a slide show in my mind. First, the topless
black woman twisting about as though she were remote controlled; then
Mother Wattles invoking her chants oblivious to everything around her. The
bonfire with the dancers and the wild white woman waving a chicken by its
feet as the chicken flapped its wings. Finally, me, strapped to a tree
naked, awaiting God only knows what. The mental picture was foreboding and
troublesome so I did my best to purge if from my thoughts.
After everything was done, I decided to call mom and say hello. I wanted
her to know that I was thinking of her and missing her. As pleased as I was
with my living arrangements; she was, after all, my mother and I loved
her. I told her about Dave's family visiting the area over the fourth and
the invitation Dave extended. I mentioned the restaurant being closed, too
and said I wasn't sure how it would work out because I was supposed to go
back to work that weekend.
Mom filled me in on what she was doing at work. There was a round of
layoffs at the plant and she felt lucky to survive it. She had two bosses
now. She retained her old boss and was secretary to the Director of Sales
and Marketing now as well. She went on to indicate that Bill invited her to
town the weekend of the fourth and she was considering to accept his
invitation. Mom wanted to see Bill and I had the time off work. Everything
fit nicely so we both agreed that she should come to New Orleans. We
exchanged "luv ya's" then I waited for her to hang up first.
I called Dave only to be informed by his mother that he was at Greg's
house. She sounded rather smug when she said it, too. For such a stately
poised woman, she sure had the propensity to be arrogant and
condescending. I thought that maybe Dave's father needed to exert himself
around the house a little more.
I decided to call Greg's cell and see what they were up to. He answered
after three rings.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Greg, it's Val."
"Hi, what's going on?"
"That's why I called. What are you guys up to?"
"We're sitting by the pool. Are you coming over?"
That sounded like an invitation so I said, "Yeah; should I bring a suit?"
"No need. You can use one of my old ones if we go swimming, just get your
butt over here."
"Okay, see ya in a bit."
"Out here," Greg said.
"Later."
I decided to shower in Mike and Steve's room since mine was clean. I could
clean theirs and shower at the same time. It would only add a few minutes
to my routine and I could check that off for the week. When I entered their
room, I walked over to their bed looking down on it. I couldn't help but
imagine Mike and Steve having sex. I hopped on their bed and lay there
motionless on my back with my hands behind my head. I looked up at the
ceiling, wondering if I would ever have a life as good as theirs.
As I lie there, I thought about my relationship with Dave. I wasn't sure
how things would work out for us. As much as I cared for him; a little
voice kept telling me we were only sixteen. Well Dave turned seventeen
earlier this summer and I would be seventeen shortly after school started
but that was about all we had in common. He was in a different school
district than me so we wouldn't be going to the same school come fall. Then
there were the obvious things. His family was rich while I was poor. I came
from a humble shack versus his big house with two stairways. As much as I
liked working, it wasn't an option for me whereas his parents bought him
anything he needed. I wasn't sure if I honestly loved him or he was the
first person I met my age that was gay and I was attracted to? It was more
than I wanted to think about, now, so I went about cleaning and showering.
When I made it to Greg's house I went around the side to find them lying in
chaise lounges.
"Hi what's happening?" I said as I took the chaise next to Greg. He was in
the middle.
"Not much," Greg said. "We were just trying to figure out an excuse to
attend the St. John's Eve party ... I mean ceremony."
I looked at Dave, who was frowning, so I asked, "What's wrong, Dave?"
He looked at Greg and then back to me, saying, "He's not giving up on the
idea."
"I take it you don't want to go?"
Greg butted in; "We're going, and that's that, so get over it".
"How are we going to get there?" I asked.
"I have permission to use Mom's car next Wednesday night. I told her we
were going to a school dance."
That sounded like a pretty good excuse but I really didn't want to go, not
after that awful dream. So I asked him,
"Is there really a dance?"
"No!" Dave said loudly. "And I can see another grounding coming if I get
caught. This time, Mom will probably slap me with a week, maybe more. I
don't think we should go."
"We're going!" Greg said adamantly. "No ifs, ands or buts about it. I have
the car for the night, so you guys will have to work it out with your
parents" he turned his head toward me, "... or guardians, whatever" he said
with a wave of his hand.
I couldn't help myself, "Tape that wrist up, will ya?"
Then Dave and I started laughing at him.
"Fuck you, guys," he said, and then lowered his sunglasses from his
forehead covering his eyes.
Greg seemed convinced that we should go. Actually, it was more like he was
eagerly anticipating it. I couldn't understand his motivation. This was
freaky shit, not something to take lightly. There were hexes, charms, dolls
... and fuckin' chickens! Imagine a ceremony with a fuckin' chicken!
And then there was the dead Voodoo Queen Marie Leveau. How does she and her
... 'magique', as Mother Wattles says ... fit into the picture?
I thought it best to tell Mike and Steve the truth. If it was okay with
them, then I would go. If not, then I would take the ribbing that Greg and
Dave would surely dish out. I was not going to jeopardize my living
arrangements and their trust over some bizarre Voodoo ceremony. I was
secretly hoping they would say no.
"I'm going to tell Mike and Steve the truth. I have to. I don't have a
choice," I said waiting for the verbal abuse to begin.
Of course Greg was first to react. "How stupid can you be? What a
dumbass. I can't believe you said that." He shook his head in disbelief.
"It's not dumb, Greg," I said in self-defense. "If I get into trouble I can
be shipped back home and you have no idea what that's like. If you get into
trouble, you get grounded or something easy like that. You get to stay
here, this is your home; you have nothing to lose."
?He's right, Greg," Dave came to my defense.
"Well, we may as well count you out then. You ought to be worried about
breaking your promise to Mother Wattles," he said, trying to make me change
my mind. "It won't go over well with her. She has some of your hair, too,
you know."
He was trying to scare me but I wasn't going to allow it. "Mother Wattles,
Schmattles," I said. "She has a screw loose in case you didn't notice. And
you're the one that made the promise, not me. She belongs in the loony bin
next to you. And besides, if it's so harmless, why do you have to lie to
go?"
That made him shut his big mouth. We sat there, the three of us, quiet,
while our tempers settled down. It was a little uneasy although I felt good
about it. I was staying above board with Mike and Steve. Sure, I might
sneak into the Quarter or cop a beer from the fridge-something harmless
like that; but I wasn't going to outright lie to them, no way.
Greg's mother stepped out the back door and hollered at Greg asking if we
wanted lunch. He told her yes then she disappeared inside. He looked
sideways at me then shook his head again.
"Whatever," I said in a sarcastic tone.
* * *
That night I had another nightmare about the ceremony. The wild white woman
with the chicken, the possessed black lady, Mother Wattles ... they were
all there. I woke abruptly before Mike and Steve came in. I was kicking at
the sheets and shouting again. I sat up in bed as they walked in the room.
Steve sat on the bed while Mike stood looking down.
"What's going on?" Mike wanted to know.
"It was a bad dream, Mike. I'm okay, now. You guys can go back to bed. I'm
sorry to wake you."
Steve had his arm around me which felt darn good while Mike stood there
with a discerning look on his face. A few minutes later and they left for
their room.
Mike lingered in the doorway scrutinizing me before he turned to go. I
reclined on the bed not wanting to think about the thoughts churning in his
head.
Things went like that for a few days. I didn't have the dream every night
but it did recur twice after that. Steve was treating me with kid gloves,
while Mike was skeptical. He seemed to be reserving judgment. I did my best
to act as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
It was Wednesday morning and Greg concluded that I wasn't going with
them. Dave was going, reluctantly, at Greg's insistence and gave his mother
the school dance story, which she believed. I still hadn't asked Mike and
Steve, making me sick and tired of taking the heat from Greg. Damn, once I
thought he was hot but now he was a pain in the butt, figuratively
speaking. It's funny how things change.
That morning, I was the first to rise as usual. I went downstairs and
started the coffee maker. I sat at the kitchen table waiting for Steve and
Mike. They had gotten into the habit of coming down for coffee before
showering and dressing. It was something they liked so I did my best to
have it ready for them. We were accustomed to using the time to chat and
let each other know what was going on.
Steve was first to enter the kitchen. I thought it would be much easier to
sway him before approaching Mike.
"Steve?"
"Yeah?"
"I have to ask you something."
"Shoot, sport."
I hemmed and hawed for a minute. Finally mustering the nerve, I said, "I'd
like to go out with Dave and Greg tonight."
I was looking down at the table though I could see from my peripheral
vision; he was watching me.
"I'm listening," he said.
Damn, I could hear Mike on the stairs so I said nervously, "They're going
to a dance at their high school. I was wondering if I could go, too."
I couldn't believe what I just said. I told a bold-faced lie to Steve. I
honestly didn't want to go, but the truth is, I was afraid not to. Greg and
Mother Wattles put the fear of God or Bon Dieu or whatever in me. I was
scared to death she could impose some kind of ominous hex afflicting me
with gloom and doom. I didn't want my life to be one of misery and
discontent either. Then there was dad's spirit to appease and release on
July first. I had to do something to get over those horrible nightmares,
too. There was too much at stake. I had no choice in the matter.
"Where do you want to go?" Mike asked, on his way to the coffee pot.
"He wants to go to a dance with Dave and Greg tonight," Steve said.
Mike sat opposite me at the table and blew lightly over the surface of his
coffee. He took a sip and set it down, saying,
"Where is it and how are you getting there?"
"Greg's mom is letting him use her car for the night. It's at their high
school."
"Which one?" Steve asked as he sat down.
"I don't know the name of it, Steve. It's further uptown than where they
live. That's all I know."
I forgot all the details Greg gave me. I was so nervous I couldn't remember
any of it. Now I was scared shitless that super-cop was going to check on
the details and find out I was lying.
"What time do you plan to be home?" Mike wanted to know.
That was a good sign that he was giving it serious consideration, so I
said,
"They have to be home by midnight."
"That's rather late. When does the dance get over?" he forged on.
"I think it gets over at eleven. Geez, Mike, I get home from work later
than that sometimes," I said, trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big
deal.
Mike turned his attention to Steve, "What do you think?"
"I don't see it as a big thing. Remember back when we were in high school
how important those were?"
Mike looked at me again, "No drugs or alcohol. Do you plan to dance with
Dave?"
"Geez, Mike, give me a break, will ya? I don't want my arse handed to me,
ya know?"
That made him chuckle and lighten up somewhat. "Okay, sport, you can
go. I'm going to repeat myself so there's no misunderstanding, no drugs or
alcohol. If there's a problem you call us and we'll come get you, okay?"
"Yeah, there won't be any trouble", I leapt to my feet. "Thanks you guys, I
have to call Dave and Greg with the good news." Then I took off for my room
and the phone.
As I approached the stairs I overheard Steve chuckle and say to Mike,
"Kids."
To Be Continued.
Thank you very much again to Wayne. And another hearty thanks to Chris for
his help in editing. Both of you have given your time and effort and it's
much appreciated. I only hope it?s worthy of our efforts.